Angel Sleuth (12 page)

Brittany hovered at the doorway, then stepped forward and spoke in an excited voice.

“And the fact that Leda made out another will leaving her nephew out of her estate can’t be unrelated. Leda told me about the will, and Kaitlin found evidence on her laptop. So someone must have stolen the laptop and the letters.”

Oh, boy. Brittany had done it now. Delbert’s face turned bright red. He popped out of his chair and strode around his office, hands behind his back. Then he stopped and threw his arms in the air.

“This is great, great! Get me that story, Kaitlin. Do the police know about this? Don’t say a word for now. We need to investigate, investigate. We may be in line for a Pulitzer! Let’s keep this under our hats until we get all the facts. That’s your job.”

“Wait a minute! That is not my job. My job is to write an advice column.”

Delbert looked at her with as much menace as the balding, short, chubby man, could manage.

“If you want to keep writing that column, you’ll work on this. Now get going.”

How dare he threaten to take away the column after he told her how well she was doing? She couldn’t produce her best work with the threat of termination hanging over her head. And she wasn’t certain she wanted to snoop around any theft or murder. Well, she didn’t want to snoop for Delbert. She might be willing to do it for herself, to clear her name, to make things better up at ARC, to find out what Leda knew and what might have gotten her killed, but not just to sell newspapers. She’d think about it for a while, at least until afternoon tea with her dance partner, Paul Lamb. There were some questions she needed to ask him.

* * *

Paul and she sat in ARC’s dining room, gazing out the windows overlooking the village. The facility rested on the highest point in the area affording it a breathtaking view of the mountains across the Kinderkill River and of the neighborhoods of Aldensville below. The valley and the mountains beyond were changing into their summer garb, the deep green of June replacing the chartreuse of April and May. Rain from the night before made the foliage shimmer in the late afternoon sunlight, and wisps of fog drifted across the shadowed hills.

She surveyed the panorama before her with the conviction of an individual who loved her surroundings. She liked being here. If only she could get beyond her writing difficulties. If she could write here, she might want to live here for longer than the summer. Maybe for always.

They sipped tea from Paul’s porcelain teacups, his wife’s favorites he told her.

“So, you have some questions about this place?” he asked.

She placed the cup back on its saucer and turned her gaze away from the view to look at Paul. His bright blue eyes registered both intelligence and curiosity.

She got right to the point.

“Leda received a few letters saying there was some funny business going on here, thefts of possessions from the residents. Have you heard anything about that?”

“No, but I’m probably not the one to ask about it.”

“If you’re suggesting I ask Mr. Toliver, I already did. He said it wasn’t true, merely a figment of elderly demented minds, a common fantasy among residents in retirement communities such as this.”

Paul sipped a bit more of his tea.

“Well, Toliver and I don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, and I guess this is another one of those areas of disagreement. No, I was going to suggest that if anyone were stealing from the residents, it would likely be from those who are most vulnerable, the ones in skilled nursing or the dementia and Alzheimer’s wings.”

Paul then suggested something she hadn’t thought of, but found insightful. He recommended a visit with one of the other residents.

“I don’t know how much you’d get out of her, but I’d try to talk with Lily. She knows more than she lets on, although she sometimes forgets how much she knows. But if you get her in her room when she’s feeling relaxed, she might have something to say.”

They gathered up their cups and the tea pot, dropped them off at Paul’s apartment, and headed to the Alzheimer’s wing. On their way past the office, Paul stuck his head in to see if Toliver was around. He wasn’t.

“Good,” said Paul. “We won’t have to worry about his barging in on us. He gives Lily the willies.”

“Let me just duck in the bathroom here for a moment, and I’ll be right with you.”

She flushed the toilet and turned to leave the cubicle. Suddenly the lights went out, leaving the small frosted window above her head the only source of illumination. She pushed on the stall door, but it seemed to be stuck. Odd. It opened easily when she came in.

“Stay where you are,” said a muffled voice from the other side of the door.

She couldn’t tell whether it was male or female. The person seemed to be speaking through several layers of cloth. She wasn’t particularly claustrophobic, but the steel walls of the small enclosure felt like they were moving in on her.

She banged on the door. “Who’s there?”

“You didn’t show up for our meeting on Saturday.”

Kaitlin looked down at the floor on the other side of the stall. She could make out a pair of sneakers there and dark pant legs, neither a clue to the person’s identity or gender.

“Let me out and we can talk,” Kaitlin said.

“No! Just listen. I know something about the thefts around here.”

“What? What do you know?”

“There’s more. One of the residents who died recently, well, I think it was murder, and it was covered up just like they covered up Leda’s murder.”

If the person talking on the other side of her prison was telling the truth, he or she was in danger. Kaitlin had to get out, find out who was talking to her, and get them to the police.

Kaitlin pushed against the door.

“I hear someone. I’ve got to go, but I’ll be in touch.”

“Wait,” Kaitlin said. The door flew open, sending her across the washroom and onto the floor near the sink. The only glimpse she got of her informant was of the soles of the person’s shoes.

Aching from her sudden encounter with the tile floor, she grabbed the sink to pull herself up. Her knees felt wobbly, but she managed to get them under her and make her way out the door. Paul stood where the hallway turned toward the Alzheimer’s wing, and next to him was ARC’s director.

“Anyone come past here?” she asked.

“No one that I saw,” said Paul, “but I ducked in the men’s washroom. When I finished there, I ran into Mr. Toliver rushing down the hallway.”

Toliver puffed as if he were out of breath. He grabbed a large handkerchief out of his pocket and rubbed it across his perspiring brow. It could have been used to muffle his voice. She looked down at his shoes. Sneakers, but that meant nothing. Everyone wore sneakers.

“Hey,” called a cheery voice from down the hallway in the other direction. Mary Jane. Now what was she doing here? And for once she was wearing neither her long gypsy skirt nor a pair of her spandex Capris. Her legs were clad in plain dark pants. Although Mary Jane was strong enough to hold the door shut on her, Kaitlin noted Mary Jane had chosen gold high-heeled sandals as her footwear today. A matching gold bag was slung over one shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” asked Kaitlin. Again suspicion rose up and strangled the usual bonhomie she was used to feeling for Mary Jane.

“I’m volunteering here.”

“Then you must be Mary Jane?” asked Toliver. “We spoke on the phone. I didn’t know you and Ms. Singer were acquainted.” He didn’t sound pleased at the idea of Kaitlin and Mary Jane being friends.

“My son and I are boarding at her place.”

“Ah,” said Toliver. He shook his head up and down like a bobble head and broke out in one of his thin smiles.

“Well, you’re going to be doing a lot of running around here.”

“Oh, I know. I’m prepared.” Mary Jane extracted a pair of sneakers from her oversized bag.

“Let’s get you started then,” said Toliver. He placed his hand in the middle of her back and guided her down the hallway toward his office. “Paperwork,” he said.

Mary Jane turned her head toward Kaitlin, winked, and mouthed, “I got your back.” Or was it, “I got you back.” Kaitlin couldn’t tell for certain, but she sensed that Mary Jane’s presence here was not accidental. Keeping an eye on her, but whose idea? Mary Jane’s or Mac’s?

“You seem lost in thought. Or perhaps lost in worry is more correct,” said Paul. “Is there something bothering you I can help with?

“No.” But she wished he weren’t wearing sneakers and black pants.

* * *

Lily’s door was open and she sat on an overstuffed chair, eyes closed, asleep or concentrating on the music playing from a stereo. Paul rapped on the doorframe and her eyes opened. She waved them into the room. The sunlight streaming in the window made her frizzy white hair look like a halo. Kaitlin shook her head. She was seeing too many angelic figures lately. She suspected, however, that beneath that beatific appearance and Lily’s confusion something a lot tougher resided.

“Don’t tell me,” Lily said, “I know I met you. You’re not Paul’s wife, are you, but you like to dance just like she did. You’re Leda. No, that’s not right. You’re Leda’s replacement. Leda died, too, didn’t she? It’s a good thing she made out that will and just in time, I guess.”

Kaitlin looked at Lily in surprise. “What do you know about Leda’s will?”

A wary look replaced Lily’s friendly demeanor. “Who wants to know? Toliver? That good-for-nothing. Gallivanting around the countryside, never here when you need him, and he’s got the hots for all those young girls around here.”

She looked at Paul in confusion. “Girls?”

“Part of our intern program. Young women, men, too, from the high school and technical college come here either to volunteer or to do internships for college credit. They’re involved in a variety of things from reading to the bedridden to playing tennis with some of us more lively types.”

Kaitlin assured Lily that Toliver knew nothing about any will, and if Lily told her about it, she wouldn’t breathe a word to him.

“Paul knows all about it. He witnessed it along with my sister, Rose. You signed it in front of someone, didn’t you, Paul?”

“Yes, we witnessed it in front of Mabel Froman. She’s a notary. Rose was visiting Lily in her room. Mabel was there, too. Quilting or something, weren’t you?”

“We were playing cards—poker. Quilting. How ridiculous.” Lily let out a derisive snort.

“Leda came in looking for Mabel and corralled us as witnesses. Why so interested in Leda’s will? I assume it’s been read, and the estate settled,” said Paul.

“Her attorney read a will. My understanding is that it was written years ago, but you’re saying Leda wrote this one just recently?”

“Yep, about a month ago. Don’t tell me they read the wrong will.” Paul shook his head in disbelief.

“I guess they did. No one located a more recent will. Do you know what Leda did with it?”

“She gave it to me,” said Lily.

Lily smiled, a mischievous look on her face.

“Do you have it? Where is it?” This might clear up everything. Kaitlin wanted to hop up and down in glee.

“I forget, but I’ll let you know if I find it.” Lily covered her mouth and yawned.

“Maybe we could help you look for it.”

Lily eyed Kaitlin for a moment, then yawned again.

“I’m tired.” She sat on her bed, removed her shoes, and curled up on the spread.

“I think that’s it. You won’t get anything more out of her now.” Paul removed an afghan from Lily’s chair and draped it over her.

He and Kaitlin left, the sound of Lily’s soft snores following them out of the room. Paul closed her door, and they walked down the hallway.

“We’ve got to find that new will. Did you happen to read it?” Kaitlin asked.

“Nope. I dropped in to see Lily and say hi to her sister. Leda came by and seemed pleased that she didn’t have to round up witnesses. Just as we were finishing, Mr. Toliver stopped by. And you know what that means.” Kaitlin thought she did, but Paul rushed on to confirm her suspicions.

“The less he knows about our business, the better. Leda, Mabel, and I left soon after he did. I assumed that Leda took the document with her, but I guess she left it in Lily’s room. Odd, but I’ll talk to Lily again tomorrow to be sure.”

She said good-bye to Paul at ARC’s rear entrance. When she unlocked her car door, she checked to see if anyone left another note.

Nothing. She’d missed the meeting with her informant and, in the bathroom, an opportunity to ask more questions. She was concerned for that person’s safety. Kaitlin wanted to get home to see if Mary Jane might have returned from her volunteer work at ARC and question her about what she had seen before they met up in the hallway this afternoon.

* * *

Mary Jane was not home when Kaitlin arrived, but someone else was.

“Hi there,” said the woman. She was as tall as Kaitlin, and the red one-piece, tight-fitting jumpsuit she wore would have made Mary Jane salivate in longing. Her hair was short enough to make Kaitlin wonder if she’d just gotten out of boot camp, but she doubted the purple and red color was military issue.

“Name’s Deirdre. Your publisher sent me. I’m your new illustrator.”

Kaitlin’s mouth dropped open. “How did you get in?”

“Mary Jane was here. I’ve been babysitting Jeremy until either you or she returned from ARC, but I’m afraid I’m not too good with kids. Somehow his pet pig got out when I opened the back door. The little girl shoved past me and off she went. Jeremy jumped on his bike and went to look for her. I couldn’t stop him.”

“Dessie’s gone?”

Just then Jeremy slammed through the front door.

“I’ve looked everywhere. I can’t find her.” Tears rolled down his cheeks.

“We’ll wait until your mother comes home then we’ll all look,” said Kaitlin. “Meantime I’ll call the vet and tell the clinic there we’ve got a missing pig and to be on the lookout if someone sees her or brings her in.”

“And we can put up posters tomorrow,” said Deirdre.

“Tomorrow? We need to find her now.” Jeremy’s voice broke with sobs.

“See,” said Deirdre. “I said the wrong thing.”